She Drinks Damnation
by hhhiue
Summary: Alright, lads. I'll give you Blackbeard's honest opinion. You ask me, "Can this new captain promise you a life of prizes, plunder, and adventure?" Aye. Amongst all the gentlemen of fortune sailing these West Indies, a woman, devil curse me, ranks amongst the most clever. / So if it's fortune and adventure you seek, then Captain Elizabeth Kenway's your woman. / AU Fem!Edward.
1. Christopher Scott

_**My only excuse for this is the fact that I'm mad at Ubisoft for making 7 games with no female protagonists. Eurgh. Why couldn't they have made Aveline de Grandpré's DLC a retail thing? Whatever.**_

_**This in an alternate universe, meaning I can change really whatever I like. This includes some of the plot lines, back stories, genders, and slight sexual preference changes. Don't hate me. **_

**Elizabeth ****is ****Edward**** and ****C****hristopher is Caroline.**

**Rated M for language and just because I don't really know where I'm going with this.**

**Don't read if you'd like to avoid spoilers.**

**Cover image is not mine.**

* * *

Elizabeth hated Bristol. Simple as that, really. What could compare to big and beautiful Swansea, Wales? Definitely not this farm her family relocated to just seven years ago. Being ten years old at the time of their drastic and unexpected move, Elizabeth had a trouble making, care free way about her that only grew when she discovered her distaste for the pastoral life her father had insisted on.

But Elizabeth wasn't unpopular, and had many "bad influences" to slow and "get in the way" of her family's "farm". The farm was successful only until Elizabeth turned fourteen. The crops never grew, and when they did the wild animals that resided nearby would demolish the fields just before harvest, and take their goods back for themselves. Her father would never admit to it, though, the man was just too proud to ever ask for advise, and when the farm eventually failed and her family went broke, Elizabeth wanted nothing more but to gloat, and say "I told you so", but the look her father gave her after breaking the news, telling her how bad this really was, she shut her mouth. Fourteen year old Elizabeth was smart enough to know when to shut up.

Seventeen year old Elizabeth was not.

Elizabeth wasn't a stranger to the eyes of men, or sometimes, women. Not that she mind. She liked attention. Liked being the center of attention. Liked proving herself to people who she shouldn't have to prove herself to. She liked to drink with the boys and to gossip with the girls. "Seventeen years old," her mother would tsk, "Shouldn't you be looking for a husband?"

The death of her father, sent her mother into a depression, Elizabeth couldn't crack. Her father had gotten scurvy. And with his old age and lack of Vitamin C, he succumbed to his sickness, and she swore to herself she'd never go out like that. Old and sick. Elizabeth had drank herself into an oblivion the night of his death. She faintly remembered foreign hands on her body that shouldn't be and the lips of a man she wouldn't recognize if he made himself known to her. She realized she liked sex, but figured she'd rather be sober the next time someone showed an interest. Taverns and the eyes of men made her forget about her troubles for a few weeks, until her mother started showing signs of the same illness her father had.

Only a week and a half later her mother passed, telling Elizabeth for the last time to find someone who can provide for her. To find someone who would love her.

True to her mother's dying wishes she did just that. Not without a bit of trial and error along the way, of course. She was angry at first. Angry at her mother, her father. They reach age 50 and then what, just drop dead? So she got drunk. By herself this time, wallowing away in her own self pity. The owners knew her enough now to know to look out for her. To make sure no one tries anything while she's vulnerable. But when she stirs up a fight, calling out at the top of her lungs that the man in the far corner of the bar were "terrible in bed" and "should be put down", there's nothing the old man and his wife can do for her.

Even in her drunken stupor, Elizabeth knows she's in trouble, knows she should've kept her big mouth shut, when the man pulls her outside, calls her a whore, and threatening to "teach her a lesson".

Elizabeth need to have a serious discussion with herself on how to know when to shut the hell up.

It's not until she's been backed up on the outside wall, her shoulders being held back by what was probably the most repulsing smelling man, when she sees an opening. He's suddenly distracted when a man on a horse, rides up behind her attacker, and tells him to back off or "you'll be out of a job". The grip on her shoulders releases and that's all the opportunity she needs. She dodges around the corner of the building, up a scaffolding, and onto the roof, nearly positive she's out of reach, she sits on the edge and crouches down.

From below she hears the sound of the man, being referred to as Ross from the man on the horse, to get back to return to his post, and that they've been looking for him all day. Elizabeth warily watches the man tie his horse around a make shift hitching post, and look up at her.

"You alright?" he asks, his accent horribly local, it nearly makes her cringe.

Narrowing her eyes, she avoids the question, "Who are you?" she calls down, her voice slurring slightly, the man bellow her raises his eyebrows slightly, not expecting such a strong Welsh accent.

"Christopher Scott," he says, and immediately Elizabeth was wary. She'd heard of Emmet Scott and his wife who shared her name, they were wealthy Bristolian tea merchants. Wealthy folk didn't just give out acts of kindness without asking something in return. "Are you from Wales?" Christopher questions, and before she can tell him to piss off, he asks exasperatedly for to come down from her perch. "You'll alert the guards."

Elizabeth looks down at him, equally as exasperated. "How did you know that man?" she's asking the important questions as she makes her way down the front of the building.

Christopher sighs, avoids the question, and apologizes on behalf of the man she'd accused of being terrible in bed - not that she'd know.

Elizabeth laughs. It's a genuine laugh and it's coming from deep inside her and not just bouncing off the back of her throat, and the first decent observation she makes about the man standing in front of her is that he raises his eyebrows to much to be normal.

* * *

Elizabeth's never been in love, but when Christopher puts one hand on her cheek and one on the curve of her hip, before kissing her for about the twentieth time that night, in the privacy of the little house that she inherited, she knows this must be what it feels like.

He asks for her hand in marriage three months after they first met. Christopher's father is displeased with his son's seeing Elizabeth, because of his previous engagement to Melissa Hague. But a month later the two are married and no one but God can disprove that.

* * *

Elizabeth's aware with other people's view of her. She's been chased out of taverns on the other side of town, streets, and other places she knew she shouldn't be but wasn't aware they had such a high dress code. Not trusting a woman who rarely wears dresses- but trousers - and accuses her of being a cross dresser.

She likes attention, but she thinks she could do without that kind of accusation.

So when Christopher's father shows up at the little house looking out at a revived and thriving crop field (that Elizabeth knows her father would've been proud of), throwing off accusations of her being an untrustworthy wife, telling his son that he's "made a huge mistake" right in front of her. She nearly strangled him, if anything she's a trustworthy. Something she's worked hard toward her entire life.

"Cau dy ffwcin ceg." she swears at him in Welsh, eyebrows furrowed and eye narrowed. She makes to lunge at him, but Christopher disappointingly steps in front of her, placing his hand softly on her collar bone. She looks down at her bare feet and wiggles her toes before frustratingly turning her back on them both. Christopher shakes his head at his father, a queue for him to leave, he does so but not without a sound of disgust and making a "point" by leaving the front door wide open. Elizabeth spins back around, knocking her shoulder in Christopher's as she passes to stand in front of the open door.

"He's wrong about me!" she curses, and slams the door closed.

* * *

"Elizabeth, please. You could never be a privateer. You're a woman, you're about to have a child, they'd never accept you." Christopher tells her many mornings later while they're lying in bed.

The hand that she recently had draped over his chest quickly retracts at the mention of the child she has inside her, she sits up. "Then I'll dress like a man and make them take me." she snarls, getting quite indignant.

"You wouldn't make a very convincing man, love. You're too beautiful." he purrs, sitting up as well and rubbing a circle over her back. "Besides, isn't privateering dangerous?"

Instinctively, she flinches and spins her body around to face him, "Wouldn't pay so nice if it weren't,"

Deciding to humour her, Christopher nods slowly, sitting up as well. "Why not sail with the King's Navy? Sail under gentlemen?"

"Sod the Navy's Gentlemen. For every shilling I'd earn, the Captain'd get six hundred. That's no way to earn a fortune."

"We don't need a fortune. Besides, don't you worry about earning shillings, my father's money and this farm is getting us on just fine."

"I don't want to live off your assho-," Elizabeth sighs at the look Christopher gives her. "I don't want to live of your father's money, and this poor excuse for a farm. I want food that don't make me sick. I want walls that hold back the wind. I want a decent life."

"You're serious about this?" Christopher asks, eyebrows raised as Elizabeth stands up in front of the bed, in all but a night gown, her belly protruding immensely . She holds her head up high and sucks in a breath.

"Aye."

It's two weeks later when the baby is born into the world and immediately taken away from her. Christopher's parents deemed her unfit to care for a child and she was handed over to Emmet Scott and his wife. The final month of Elizabeth's time on Bristol was spent getting ready to leave for the Caribbean. Christopher had left to live back on his parents farm to take of the child Elizabeth had never been able to see. Once guards began patrolling her house and watching for her around Christopher's parent's house she knew she had to leave.

Once the letter arrived informing her alias "Edward Kenway" was accepted as a privateer, she left Bristol and Christopher and took her anger with her.

* * *

_**Cau dy ffwcin ceg - **_**Shut your fucking mouth**


	2. Darcy Walpole

**Cape Bonavista ****June 1715 **

Elizabeth's an experienced woman by the month of June. She'd left Bristol nearly two years ago, drowning her worries in rum and the smell of gun powder that accompanies firing and looking after one of the port side cannons. Elizabeth became Edward when she was at sea, and being treated as an equal among was easy as tying her light blonde hair up and covering it with a hat. She was only a woman while in Nassau, where her friends knew of her true identity.

* * *

"Hold fast!" the Captain yells during the midst of a ghost ship firing at them from behind storm clouds. She's reloaded her cannon for the third time when the ship finally becomes visible in the distance.

"Jaysus," is all she can muster, as she wipes an arm across her forehead. The men around her all have a similar reaction as the Man o' War gains on their schooner. Fear isn't uncommon on a pirate ship, but it's easily drowned in a bottle of rum. Just the sight of this ship appearing in front of them like a ghost ship and threatening to send them down to Davy Jones.

Lightning flashes every which way, illuminating the ship as it pulls up too near for comfort. The final flash perfectly silhouettes a figure dressed in an outfit, unfamiliar to Elizabeth. She can tell it's a woman by the way her body is built and the way her chest protrudes. Not that she was looking.

"Our Helmsman's dead! Someone take the wheel!" the Captain yells down from the quarterdeck. Elizabeth leaves her post to join him by the wheel. "Kenway! Take the bloody wheel!"

Instinctively, she does so steering the ship around so two schooners are on either side. Giving the order the fire on both sides, the two go down. Finally, the order is given to fire a chain shot at the schooner that's appeared in front of them. Her hat flies off and her tied back hair falls down her back. If anyone's noticed, they don't say anything. The ship's already in bad condition because of the storm. Elizabeth knows this. The Captain knows this. The crew knows this. She's even sure the Man o' War that's now ramming into their starboard side knows this. But with a few shots from the broadside cannons, and a strike of lightning, the Man o' War is incapacitated.

"The magazine!" a crew member yells, as Elizabeth comes down onto the deck to look at the sinking ship not 10 yards away. "It's going up!"

And it is. The thing explodes, killing the man standing nearby. Those standing near rush to help when a shake from the ship causing them to stumble backward. "Douse the flames!" the Captain yells, pushing Elizabeth and the other men forward. "Get in there you mongrel!" he curses when a man hesitates. Elizabeth hesitates long enough to see the woman from before jump down onto her Captain, killing him with a blade to the back of the neck.

Elizabeth turns around as the woman squares up, threatening her with just the sight the blades poking out from the wrists. Elizabeth steps back instinctively, the hair rapped in a tie is wet and is blow around awkwardly by the wind, and is immediately thrown overboard from the rocking of the ship.

* * *

She wakes up underwater and all her instincts tell her to panic, to flail for help, but for once she ignores them. Shakes her head and swims up to the surface, her heart pounding and lungs constricting. She takes a deep breath when she reaches safety, and it's the sweetest breath of air she's ever taken. She looks around as she catches her breath, relieved at how close shore is. Quickly, she swims to the beach.

She stands up to walk to shore only to fall back down again on her back out of exhaustion. She thinks about how her crew mates are dead at the bottom of the ocean, and how she's most likely the only survivor and she laughs bitterly. Tugging her hair out the string, letting the blonde locks fall loose around her shoulders. She shakes her wet hair out into the sand and laughs again.

The sloshing of the water next to her pulls her out of the daze she's entered. Looking to her left she watches as the woman from before drags herself onto the beach with a groan.

"Was it good for you as well?" she laughs, watching the other woman.

"Havana..." the woman breaths, struggling to speak due to exhaustion. "I must get to Havana."

"Well I'll just build us another ship, will I?" Her voice is condescending and sarcastic, and the woman huffs air out of her nose angrily.

"I can pay you. Isn't that the sound you pirates like best? One hundred escudos."

Elizabeth sits up, having noticed a bottle wash ashore next to her. She lifts it up to her mouth and when nothing comes out she throws it back into the ocean. "Keep talking." she says, and she's done with being condescending. This woman killed her Captain, she hasn't forgotten.

"Will you or won't you!"

Elizabeth stands up and walks in circles around the suffering woman. "You don't have that gold on you now, do you?" she asks, reaching down to search her, but she's sent falling back when the woman pulls out her gun and stands up across from her. She sticks her hand in front of her face as a sign of peace, not wanting this woman to be the to kill her. She does not want to die here.

"Bloody fucking pirates." the woman spits, and pulls the trigger of her gun. Elizabeth closes her eyes, expecting the sound of a gunshot to be the last thing she ever hears. But it's not. The gun clicks, and they both realize the gun powder inside is too wet to even salvage. Elizabeth is still protectively holding her hands in front of her face, when the woman throws the gun onto the beach and runs off into the island.

Elizabeth stands up with a laugh, "I'm on to you Sneaksby!" her legs are sore and she staggers as she stands, but chases after the woman none the less. The chase is relentless and filled with the two women yelling after each other to slow down or "if you keep following me I will kill you,". So Elizabeth continues to give chase only until they've ran around the whole of the island, and the woman stops, turns around, yells at her to "keep her distance," before shooting.

Elizabeth decides that she's no longer chasing this woman to catch up to her. She's chasing to kill her.

Elizabeth continues to give chase through the trees, through the swamp, and down a hill. They reach an open area when the woman spins around, weapon drawn, Elizabeth retaliates with her own two swords and it's two slashes before the woman drops to her knees, clutching her chest, and falls down dead.

The victor of the fight drags the looser back against a rock, where she loots the body. Immediately, she finds a letter addressed to a Señorita Darcy Walpole, small double folded maps, and a strange clear cube found inside a small pouch.

The letter reads,

_Señorita Darcy Walpole,_

_I accept your most generous offer, and await your arrival with eagerness.  
__If you truly possess the information we desire, we have the means to  
reward you handsomely. Though I will not know your face by sight,  
I believe I can recognize the costume made infamous by your secret order.  
Therefore, come to Havana in haste. And trust that you shall be welcomed  
as an equal. _

_Su más humilde servidor, _

_Governor Laureano Torres y Ayala._

With a snort Elizabeth places the letter aside, and proceeds to remove the costume from the now dead woman. It takes nearly forever to figure out how to put back on, but ten minutes of struggling with where the straps should go, Elizabeth immediately regrets ever putting this thing on. It's at least 5 pounds of extra weight put on her, in the hot Caribbean heat. She shakes it off, grabs the letter, inspects the wrist blades that came with the outfit and throws them in the bushes.

It's nearly been an hour since she was thrown from the ship when Elizabeth meets and rescues Stede Bonnet, gives him a false name, and invites herself onto his merchant vessel. It's all in well meaning as she pilots the ship for him, impressively steers it out of the twist and turning bay, and sails to their mutual location, Havana.

"You're a natural sailor Darcy." Stede Bonnet comments, walking awkwardly around her. "How is a woman like yourself is better than most men I've met?"

Elizabeth laughs, "A story for another day, my friend." she sighs, "I did a decent trick at the helm some time ago."

"As a privateer?" He asks excitedly, reminding her of a child. She doesn't answer, letting him think what he'd like. "Dash my buttons! Your life seems a grand one, if I may say. So full of adventure! How marvelous." he comments, incredulous to the threat of sailing.

Elizabeth watches as he places his hands on the port side of the ship's edge, and looks off almost dreamily into the distance. "I've seen my fair share of strangeness, aye."


	3. Bartholomew Roberts

**Havana 1715**

Elizabeth has scars.

The external kind and the internal kind. Just the mere thought of Bristol and the pain it accompanies makes her heart ache. The thought of her child she never got to meet the husband who didn't fight for her. Two years at sea and she still held a grudge. Under the eyes of God, she was a married woman, but in her own eyes she was married to every ship she set foot upon, the smell of the water and the wide open sea.

Elizabeth has scars.

Too many scars for one person, let alone a woman. There are scars on her legs, her face, hands, back, and arms. She isn't ashamed of them, she never has been. And why should she? Each and every one of them has a story, a story she's never afraid to tell. Scars are considered souvenirs, trophies, signs a few scratches along your body wouldn't stop you. They would definitely never stop Elizabeth. Not for a long time.

So when Bonnet gestures to her face with his index finger and points at the scar running from her cheek bone to her nose. She grins and doesn't answer, leaving it up to his imagination. Sometimes that was better, having someone think of the grand possibilities for a women to get a scar like that, when in truth, she had never been good at riding Christopher's horse back in Bristol. Bonnet turns, unsatisfied and she scowls angrily at the back of his head, for making her think of her estranged husband.

It's an hour before they reach the docks of Havana, she tells Bonnet of her "secret" meeting with the governor, he tells her of his wife and children back home and when they square up against the docks, immediately Bonnet leans over the edge of the star board side and waves to the people on land. "Ah, lively Havana! I've been here once before. It was a truly awe-full pleasure."

"See someone you know?" Elizabeth asks, watching him with an eyebrow raised.

"No, no, no. Just putting on a friendly face. I shouldn't want to be mistaken for a pirate again."

"Right. Flash rogue like yourself must be cautious." she's condescending as she hangs an arm around one of the pegs of the wheel. Bonnet doesn't acknowledge her comment, and continues to walk down the boat, waving to the people who aren't waving back.

* * *

Elizabeth makes him buy her a new sword, telling him to be a gentlemen and that she "saved his skin," and with an awkward unsure shakes of his head he gives her 1000 reales. She buys the sword for 800 and keeps the 200, "That'll do for me. How do you fair?" she asks, replacing her old swords with the new.

"I only had enough for a small knife, sadly. Still, it'll do in a pinch." Bonnet looks unsure up at her while he places his small knife in the inside pocket of his coat. Elizabeth smiles a crooked grin with a small nod, and gesture she hopes he'll pick up as thanks. "Have you ever been to this lively city before?"

She shakes her head, "Can't say that I have, no. I'm sure I'll discover her secrets in no time."

"Yes, quite." Bonnet comments, returning to his ship to pick up a box of sugar. "So is this where we part ways I assume, Miss Darcy. It's b-"

"Hey, ah, Bonnet," she cuts in almost regrettably, leaning up against a stack of crates. "The name's Elizabeth, in truth. Darcy's only a handle."

"Ah," he points at her excitedly, "A secret name for your secret meeting with the Governor!"

Elizabeth nods, pushing off from the crates, "Right. The Governor. Think I've kept him waiting long enough." she nods at Bonnet, tugs up her hood, and saunters off.

Elizabeth is arrogant. She's a naturally arrogant person. She's narcissistic and she's confident. She knows she's good at what she does. Being a pirate is all she really knows anymore. She hasn't quite decided what she enjoys more, people liking her, or being frightened of her.

Her confidence and thirst for adventure i_s _what makes her a good pirate.

And she knows she's a good pirate.

Even her mates back in Nassau think she's a good pirate. Despite her gender, they treat her as an equal.

_"If this place is about the equality of all men, and not bendin' at the knee to some shit pot King, what about women? What's the point of this damned place if I've got to bend at the knee to the likes of men?"_ she had cussed and nearly started a fight before Ed Thatch, punched her shoulder and announced her an equal among the likes of Benjamin Hornigold and James Kidd. Elizabeth proved herself quickly, and it wasn't hard.

She was a _pirate. _

_Men_ weren't going to stop her.

Especially not this Governor and the two men who questioned her and put a gun in her hands and convinced her to do a shooting challenge while they were waiting on the Governor.

Elizabeth _did not_ like these men.

She did not like them when Julien du Casse gave her wrist blades, telling they were "souvenirs". She did not like them when they made her demonstrate talents they assumed she learned from some "order".

Woodes Rogers and Julien du Casse tell her Nassau is their next target, she nearly kills them both right there. She meets the Governor, and she doesn't like him either. She likes him for his money, so she gives them the cube that accompanied the letter and the maps found on the real Darcy Walpole. He speaks of an observatory they could use to spy on their enemies, to be one step ahead of them.

Elizabeth is intrigued by this, wanting one day to see this "observatory."

She hated them when they were looking over a map and told her to "take a seat". She enjoyed robbing them of their pocket money after that. Woodes Rogers, Julien du Casse, and Laureano Torres were men who thought themselves better than everyone else, and any man like that she did not like. She would get the reward promised and hopefully disappear.

Darcy Walpole would disappear.

_Elizabeth Kenway would not._

* * *

Elizabeth was a smart woman. She was literate, unlike most, she was street smart, and knew how to read people. Her mother had grown up to a literate family, while her father did not, and she insisted on teaching them both how to read and write. Elizabeth learned quickly at a young age while her father had some trouble. But she knew he was grateful, his newly literate life made more confident, happier even. Elizabeth would always be grateful to her mother, she never would once think ill of her.

Elizabeth was smart. But not smart enough to know that the people she was currently associating with were the enemies of one of her very close friend. Something she'd feel immensely guilty for in the future. So when she meets Bartholomew Roberts, a man they call the Sage, on the docks, she's not smart enough to realize this man is not someone to be messed with. His eyes are gold and when he makes eye contact with her he scowls, resists against his restraints and spits at her feet.

The three men show interest in interrogating this man, and she doesn't say a word. If helping to escort this "Sage" to prison brought her closer to the money she was promised, she didn't care what the hell he was called. So when they're attacked by men and women in outfits similar to the one she wears, she barely hesitates. She's a pirate. She doesn't care who the people she kills are.

The Sage is freed of his restraints by one of their attackers and attempts to escape, but she's lighter and faster than him, and when she caught up, tackled him, and brought him back to the Governor, he called her a "lap dog" and she pushed him towards a guard and told him to shut his mouth.

Woodes Rogers and Julien du Casse depart shortly after. Woodes Rogers leaves regrettably, telling the Governor he must sail for England and Julien du Casse helps escort their prisoner to his prison. The Governor acknowledges her for the first time since they met, calling her "Ms. Darcy Walpole" gives her the money she'd been waiting for. He tells her to be present at the interrogation of Bartholomew Roberts tomorrow at noon, "Yes, sir." is her given reply, as he walks past her. She scowls at the back of his head as she weighs the pouch of money in her hands.

* * *

Elizabeth walks nearly all the way across the city. She almost feels like it's enough to cool her down, but at the mere thought of the _**Twllt din **_of a old man she slams the pouch down on a table across from Stede Bonnet.

"God sink me for this pittance. One thousand reales for those maps. That's what? A hundred pounds at the most?" her voice is angry, and she feels like ranting as Bonnet pours her a drink, his eyes wide, already a little tipsy from the strong rum. "How am I supposed to become rich in these times with a miser like Torres running the world?" she sits back in her seat and returns the pouch of money to her belt.

"Would you ever... work on a plantation?" Bonnet asks slowly, his words slurring.

Elizabeth ignores this, and picks up her drink, "You know what I'm thinking? I'd like to see this observatory the governor was going on about. He said it were like a device that could follow people around and show where they were." she explains, taking a sip.

"A ludicrous idea! Imagine my wife with such an advantage over me." Bonnet laughs, a displaced sound in the seriousness she currently feels.

"Well, imagine what a thing like that would be worth." Bonnet shrugs and takes another sip of his drink as Elizabeth stand up, "Sell that to the right person and I'd be the richest pirate-" she looks back at him in her ramblings to find he hasn't heard what she said as he chugs the rest of his drink, "in the West Indies."

She turns her back to him, "I'll catch you up, Bonnet. There's a Sage in that house I must speak to. In private." he gives her a small wave of his hand, still distracted by his drink, and when he sees she hasn't drank hers, he makes a grab for it.

* * *

_****__**Twllt din - Asshole**_

_**I think I know where I'm going to go with this story, but I'm not too sure. I know for a fact the bad ass Elizabath/Mary/Anne trio is totally going to happen but beyond that I've got no ideas but to go with the game. Any suggestions would be appreciated!**_

_**Thanks for the review shivaun18!  
**_


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